Sanctuary of the Wanderer
by dictionaryofdreams
Summary: Two condemned prisoners, General Hux and Poe Dameron, are placed together in prolonged isolation after being put through a transformative experiment sanctioned by the First Order. Forced to flee before seeing their work come to fruition, the scientists abandon their laboratory, leaving the two men to a world of their own making. [Poe x Hux/Gingerpilot/Generalpilot/Damerux]
1. Chapter 1

It was a room untouched by light - not the light of sunrise, nor even that of the moon, only a single fluorescent ray would ever illuminate the emptiness surrounding Poe Dameron. His head throbbed with pain, as though there was something striving to escape, yet the walls of his skull would not allow it. When he had first opened his eyes, he could see nothing at all. Not a movement, nor even a silhouette, was discernible through the oppressive darkness. Yet he was patient, for time seemed without beginning or end in the abominable place to which he had been condemned, and his eyes began to adjust. A silhouette was there indeed for him to behold, something human-like, something more dead than alive. Perhaps no more than a puppet, a heap of fabric.

He watched it for some time with a child's fear of the dark, it did not move, yet with his keen gaze, growing sharper and sharper, he could see that it breathed. The black coat heaved with its breathing, its back was to Dameron, and he watched – his state trance-like, he himself too horrified to make a sound, so much as a motion which his body could not compel by its own resilient will.

In the stillness that neither threatened nor comforted, the man began to question, his faculties soothed by the continued passing of time. What was it that he feared? How long had he been there? Poe stretched out a hand and tried to prop himself up from the cold metallic floor, raising himself slowly, his gaze not leaving the only other form within the chamber. At this sign of motion, something in the room became aware of his presence and a light turned on, flickering with a pale blue hue as that of a screen. The pilot bit at his lower lip, his eyes darting to and fro between the thing in the corner and the luminescence above.

They had done something to him, some change, some drug – he knew not what, he only felt that something was deeply wrong with him. That they had taken his very soul from him, that no one could save him, lost as he was in a prison of monsters. Mad thoughts weaved and danced in his head while he fought against them one by one, trying to reclaim what was left of himself from the poison that was within him. Every inch of his skin felt hypersensitive, every sound reached his ear amplified, every vision appeared grotesque and embodied with meaning.

He wished to scream yet was afraid to make such a sound of boldness, whether in rebellion or submission - afraid that they would come in – dark silhouettes, obedient to some force unknown to man, an unimaginable thing existing only in the mind. A thing of faith and anxiety. For a moment he turned his eyes solely to the bulb, as though it were a great eternal eye, distracting him from the maddening fit that was overcoming him. He needed something to focus on.

Yet from the corner other eyes were turned upon him, equally distraught and searching through vague thoughts of a different construction - unfamiliar to the man's nature, suppressed for decades into recesses of catalogued memories, carefully wrapped in vengeful ambition.

His belief was that precise order had been hideously distorted, satirized by a wicked mind that forced him to stay in emptiness and confinement. Yet it felt like more than ordinary punishment, commonplace cruelty – it gave an ethereal hue to all that he saw and sensed, as though he were in a dream. His hands longed to search for his dagger, the comfort of knowing that if he was not strong enough to endure, he need not beg. Such memorabilia he carried with him always, a token from the days of old when he was weak and pitiful for all to see, when he had nothing to coat his shame. His emotions were read upon his face. Yet the latter he still could not fully learn to tame; the way his lips, his eyes, his hands would speak what he would have kept silent - telling all of his secrets like idle gossips.

The moment when their eyes met, all disappeared but the sharp feeling of revulsion, instantaneous and instinctual, an enemy recognized among strange things and strange worlds, in a surreal place full of archetypal evil.

General Hux raised himself cautiously, his arms shaking, wrapping his coat around his body like the feeble protection of wings for a bird struck to the ground. He felt that is frame was a thing emaciated with hunger, with weakness. He imagined ribs protruding and slender hands grasping, all his doubts and inhibitions magnified. Yet glimpses of the ordinary flitted also through his mind, disappearing as quickly as they came – for such things had no place in the metallic world which they then inhabited. To search for the blade, to strike down his enemy, these things he could not will himself to do, for then a more frightening enemy would remain. To be left alone in a place so imbued with emptiness made him shiver; he could imagine it well and would do all that he could to thwart it.

The two men were frozen in place by the shock of awareness, revulsion giving way to fear, fear to curiosity, and then, almost imperceptibly, to a sort of compassion as that of living beings stranded on an island. They were together and their fate was entangled, lest by some greater misfortune the sole witness of their existence would be taken away.


	2. Chapter 2

"Y-You're here. General Hux -" Dameron was the first to speak, his voice felt hoarse and dry in his throat. His words slurred. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to focus. "Why? What - what is this place?"

He imagined that he had long been left screaming, yet no further vision could Poe's mind provision for what had been laid between his freedom and his captivity. The man searched the defensive gaze of the other, induced by his desire to believe that Hux knew and remembered what he himself could not; that by threat, bargain, begging or coaxing he would be compelled to give answer. Such was his maddening desperation.

Only a slight quivering of the lip and brow gave sign that he was heard, while General Hux sought to gather his disordered thoughts, drawing them back from the realm of emotion to that of familiar reason, however faulty – comfortable and comforting in its familiarity, like a military drill. The rhythm of precise teachings, the stern training which he had given and received, loathed and admired like a mantra forever chanted in uncertain times. Poe could not wait, for before him was a feeble embodiment of the evil that had befallen him, that had seeped him in convulsive thoughts, while at the same time leaving him with an acute awareness of his own derangement, mounting and taking new forms.

Dameron pounced upon him, pinning his arms to the ground as though the general had had him at gunpoint, yet were it so, he could have done no more in provoking the unbearable agitation that was overcoming the courageous nonchalant nature, once recognizably Poe's.

Hux gasped, his breath leaving him as the other's weight was forcibly cast upon him. He grit his teeth, feeling a power grasp on his wrists, painfully restraining him from a purpose that was brought into his mind by the act itself. If it had not been his intention to rid himself of his cellmate, the vision of a blade flashed before him then. Yet it mingle itself with uncomfortable doubts, such as were his soothing thoughts when he had first beheld the pilot's familiar face, leaving the general thus ill-resolved to do the other more harm than was the due quid pro quo. Instead, he would wait and watch, having taking such an approach before with other rash and fiery temperaments, rather than to confront them directly before the variables aligned sufficiently in his own favor.

The man's proximity, his warm breath and the abandonment of human civilities helped to draw him out of the dreamlike state that had left him weak and unable to rise; as though to awaken and confront a bitter reality had been more than he could bear – a petulant unwilling child, shunning what should be and must be. It was like cold water upon his skin, to be forced to fight for his survival before considering so much as the weight of his desire for it. Armitage smiled contemptuously, knowing that whether he would or would not, his indecision allowed him to leave the next moments to the fate allotted to one who chooses resignation, the heaving form of Dameron in part losing its ferocity for him.

Sensing no struggle or resistance from the other, Poe Dameron slightly relaxed his grip upon him, suddenly feeling guilty to have acted like a wretched being, more feral than human, for whom the chain between instinct and action is like a bolt of lightning. Yet even his instinct was not there for him to act as guide; once he had subdued such a one as was Hux to him, he knew not how to proceed, for although he was closer to foe than friend, in the circumstances of their shared desperation he felt that he would not be the first to draw blood without just cause. Poe's meager knowledge of Hux's past, as much as his own, had already grown distant and obscure, remaining mainly in the form of general precepts. He resolved to further force the other's history from his memory – releasing the general from the atonements that he rightly owed.

Hux would be to him a stranger, if ever he did know him. His slate would be wiped clean.

Having arrived at the resolution, he felt a greater bout of peace. But why did Hux smile? A horrid smile it was, having no mirth in it. It incensed him to think that the trapped fox should leer. He longed to slap him across the face, to spit upon it and at the same time knew that each of these deeds would be to his own mortification and shame. Instead, before he would allow himself time to consider, he acted on their inverse, which was to repay the defensive facade of the other with a strange charity. Poe's hand's moved from the other's wrists to his hand, slowly, gently interlacing his rough fingers with those of General Hux. They appeared to him slender and almost womanly, the general's thin body tense and his gaze more fearful than it had been at the violence which seemed to have approached him, only to be transmuted into something foreign and intangible, something that he could not ignore. Dameron felt that the other had understood.

In that sudden moment, their disordered thoughts connected like wires, an emotional electricity passing between them. Before he could reason, General pushed Poe off with all of the force that he could muster. When again he stood, it was he who gazed down upon Dameron, who lay confused like one temporarily blinded and stunned. Seeing Armitage's expression of disbelief and mediated malice roused him to alertness as he too proceeded to recover himself.

General Hux took several paces back, yet did not allow his gaze to falter from the man who so vexed him. Only then did he realize that his dagger was never with him, and how foolish it was to have imagined that their distant masters would have allowed him to keep it while in the confides of his cell, lest the two opposing forces should do overmuch damage to one another and impair the fine work for which they had become the chosen materials.

Yet while their minds had connected in that transitory moment, Dameron learned enough to know that Hux knew little more than what he knew himself of the circumstances of their confinement. Nor was there any plan or hope within him of rescue. Apart from such commonplace thoughts, what he learned of the general himself he could barely begin to dissect – reserving it for a time when he was at peace to dwell slowly and carefully on matters beyond the practical.

It pleased him to have seen and been seen through the mind's eye, although Poe could not measure how much he had given of himself to he who was cast in the role of a stranger – all the while he believed that had it not been for his uncharacteristic act of anger, he may have missed such a chance. Nevertheless, little reason had he to desire such knowing, for it had no wise use other than to be given assurance of the other's humanity – knowledge which had, on a subconscious level, only been denied to him with his own consent.


	3. Chapter 3

"Control yourself," spoke the general, addressing the other with an overlapping remembrance of a distant rival.

It seemed to him that as time passed, his power diminished against those whose nature it was to take what they wanted, irreverent to the laws of the society to which they owed their position. Even as the thought crossed through his mind, he was aware of a flaw in its reasoning – these men, those of the cast of Ren and the pilot, would not hesitate to claim their authority even if it were not rightly bestowed upon them as their due. They owed little and made others their debtors – their loyalty was to their ideals, first and foremost. They were their own grand leaders, and bowed to no earthly authority which sought to avert their course, like a bloodhound who had picked up the scent and would not hear the call of the hunter's horn.

Regardless of what realm they were thrown upon, their will to power, unlike his own, was resilient to the rise and fall of fortune – hardly needing the approval of a master to proceed. Fate might heave unfavorable circumstances onto their path that would have left him impotent, yet they would brashly throw the entire weight of their force to obliterate them, or else themselves be destroyed. Whether out of a conviction of their own invincibleness or a disregard for their own mortality, he could only conjecture. Having been raised to advance in obedience to superior powers, Hux believed that he would falter and sink low once the odds stacked too heavily against him, caring too much for the preservation of the territory which had already been conquered to risk losing it in a single bout.

To Hux, status and authority had long been the end itself. Thus, the other aims and principles with which his work had been justified were but orbiting satellites of politics, relegated to being the means of rising in the esteem of the disgruntled voice that still murmured in his ear, lest he should embarrass himself.

General Hux hesitated for a moment before turning away from Dameron and going forth to examine the room. It was his pressing desire to scrutinize every inch of the claustrophobic space within which he was confined, reminding him of a storage facility, so bare were its walls. Certainly there was a door of some sort through which they had been deposited within the cube, however well masked. Since time was the only resource bestowed on them, he reasoned to make the most of it - while he still had strength and life enough.

"I'm sorry Hux, I do not know why I...I mean sure, there are times when I would have like to strangle a –" Poe uttered his half formed thoughts, wishing to dispel the silence which gave weight to the recent proceedings.

He trusted to the predominant emotion of shame to make itself coherent and sincere, yet it was not Hux's forgiveness that he truly needed, but his own. He could not fully comprehend why he had felt so near to hysteria, for there was nothing close at hand which seemed to wish him harm, nothing worse than the slight figure of the general, who seemed to find Poe hardly worth his regard.

"Something had shaken my brains – this place, we will find a way to get out of here," he continued. "I mean, if you're willing to put aside our anonymity for the time being," Dameron brushed the imaginary dust off his clothing, as though to symbolize a fresh start.

"Yes, we shall let it be so," Hux answered, turning to the wall which he had previously been occupied with examining, pressing his ear to it while he firmly knocked against the metal. He listened to the sound of a consistently unpromising surface.

After another lapse into silence, Poe was left to mull over the question that continued to irk him, debating whether to let it go for the time being and join Hux in his search, or else get the truth out of him. There was something provoking in the other man's cold manner, making the oppressing thought all the more unbearable.

"Were you able to read my thoughts?" Poe asked, quite aware of how mad the question sounded the moment that he heard himself speak it, yet his curiosity was too great to leave the thought unturned. For how could he feel himself at ease in such a state, when not only his deeds and his words, but his very thoughts, regardless of their content, might be open to the scrutiny of a figure he could hardly term as empathetic to human foibles.

It was like having another conscience, an angle on one shoulder, a devil on the other, and then – General Hux. Three was company.

Hux stopped what he was doing and turned to Poe again, hesitating before he spoke.

"Yes," he answered at last, "only for a moment."

"And I yours," Poe affirmed. "Can you still do it now?"

"No," Hux said curtly.

"Neither can I," the pilot felt greater assurance in the truth of the other's reply mainly by the fact of his own inability. "Well, that's that then. Doesn't it bother you though? Or at least, aren't you curious why or how it happened?"

Hux did not have a ready reply to the other's question, nor did he wish to discuss the matter with him, hardly feeling that he should choose Dameron as the object of his confidence.

"I know as little about it as you do, as you already know"

"Yes – I remember sensing that you were afraid," said Poe, not meaning to provoke the other but rather, to lay bear some morsel of what he had seen.

"As were you commander," said General Hux.

"I think it has to do with why we are here," Poe went on.

"I think so too," Hux said blithely, returning to his task of searching the cell.

"What do you think in means? Why would they – I don't know what to call it, but there's something that has changed. Maybe it is not as horrific as I first imagined, now that I can think clearly, but I need to know what it is before I can let it rest, unlike you who seem not to care that someone might have been prodding in your head."

"Let us not waste time."

"But I suppose they're used to that in the First Order," Dameron chuckled, somewhat annoyed with the other man.

"It is not that I do not care Dameron. Although there is no one else in sight, I am in not the person who is able to offer you comfort or explanation," said Armitage, not knowing why he felt obliged to justify himself. "I suggest that you make yourself useful, if you can."

"I believe you misunderstand me then. But go on, I won't distract you Hux," Dameron said, seeing that the other was, if not hostile, then at least not in the mood to converse. He tried to hide the terse mood visible upon his brow, aggravated with both the general and himself.

Poe paced about the small chamber, letting his eyes stray to the single source of light on the ceiling before sitting down and trying to focus his thoughts on coming up with another plan, lest Hux's investigation uncovered nothing. He trusted the general to be more thorough with the task than he himself would have been.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been for him little more than a whim, a futile act out of an impetus to exhaust all possibilities, regardless of the impossible.

Armitage applied his force to one of the walls, and to his pleasure and incredulity, found that the impossible delivered. The wall of the cube moved, expanding the surface area allotted to the two prisoners as easily as though he were moving a dividing panel upon wheels, nearly causing Hux to fall over from the surprising shift.

"They move!" Dameron exclaimed in amazement, hardly able to believe his eyes, the man's delight equal to that of Hux. Grinning broadly at the sign of hope, he joined the general in pushing the wall away from the center, however, the moment he touched it, the material once again became as immobile as concrete. Hux turned to him sharply with a scowl, as though he would at any moment strike him, regarding the pilot as one who tears up a winning lottery ticket.

"Imbecile" he waved his hand signalling the other to stay back, hoping that it was not too late to reverse the mistake.

Dameron obeyed, if only for the sake of renewing their hopes and watching Hux feign to be who knows exactly. Turning his attention back to the metallic wall, General Hux attempted to continue his experiment without the assistance of meddlers, uncertain whether it would be to any avail after Poe's untimely interference.

To his relief, the wall was still yielding, having return to its former mobile state – once those who exerted pressure upon it returned their numbers to one. Hux observed that it seemed to pulse at his touch, as though a sentient shiver ran through it, a sensation both strange and unnerving. Yet it did not stop him from his endeavour. Indeed, he could not help but smile with petty pleasure that the creators of the cube had deemed it fitting to allow him certain rights over the square footage of his confines, and not to the pilot, although the reasons for this presumed decision remained obscure to him.

He began to mediate on this question while making for them a very narrow passageway of a cell, moved by little more than a vague notion that at some point the end of the expansion would be reached to reveal a door, some means of escape – anything other than emptiness.

These thoughts were interrupted by a shouting coming from somewhere in the distance, not behind him as he had expected, but to the right of him – where there was another great expanse. So intent he had been on his own experiment that he had failed to notice how the cell was not a hallway but a large prism, long and wide enough to house a battlecrusier.

It was not long before he could see the panting form of Dameron sprinting back to what had once been the center of their cell. The general debated whether or not to continue with his side of the room or accept the futility of the task which the pilot was likely on his way to report to him, after having taken the attempt far enough that it was some time before the two of them met again.

Retracing his steps over the great distance which was made between them, Poe at last reached the general, pausing for a moment to regain his breath before he spoke, his face drenched in sweat, not without some pleasure at being able to stretch his limbs – while at the same time being of use to their common cause.

"It's no good, I mean we can make this the size of a small country but what of it?" he gestured to the surrounding empty space. " I suppose it's something – at least we tested one so-called hypothesis as well as any man can, short of running a marathon. Then again, who knows, we could keep trying once I rest for a bit. I'm worn out and dying for water" Poe wiped his brow, his chest still heaving. "At least this new development is something to work with."

"There must be a reason for this," Hux turned away from him to think, he looked to the ground, pacing slightly as he verbalized his nascent speculations, more for his own sake than for a desire for the other's input.

"You may be right, but what more can we do?" Poe, who had been sitting on the floor stood up suddenly.

Hux had no answer to give the man, nor himself for the matter.

"Wait here," Armitage told him, walking towards the wall panel which he had been pushing.

"What – did you find something?" Poe's features expressed a sharp interest to disobey him, "it felt like I was running for hours. It's just more of the same...isn't it?" Poe could see even from where he stood that there was no visible object on the horizon when he gazed in the direction beyond Hux, yet was all the while despondent to fully admit to himself that their efforts and glimmer of hope was all for naught. "I suppose we could try going further, I just –"

"I said wait here," Hux repeated.

"Why? Where are you going?" Dameron's brow furrowed at what he felt was needless effrontery by the general, who refused to look past their two factions even temporarily until they found some means of escape. "Fine, suit yourself," Poe tried to appear indifferent to the other's small-mindedness but could not help but feel some disappointment that the other did not trust with him, for such had been his interpretation as he watched him walk on into the distance.

After a few moments, Dameron likewise turned to walk in the direction of the wall panel that he thought of as "his", trudging on in contemplation. He tried to amuse himself with the thought of telling Hux that if the general was of no help but as food, then so be it – leading to other tangents of thoughts which he did not much wish to entertain.

Meanwhile, General Hux's usually forbearing temper had grown irritated from being deprived of his bodily needs. Even the vastly expanded confides which housed him offered no visible sign of providing them with water or sustenance; he knew not when the last time was that he had either. He estimated that less than a day had passed since he awoke, although there was no way of keeping time. Surely it could not have been long because, while he was certainly exhausted and slight of frame, his body did not bear the signs of being near the point of starvation.


	5. Chapter 5

He walked on, trying to take some pleasure in being able to move about freely and dispel the claustrophobic ambience that had previously surrounded him. When at last reaching the end, he stopped and looked around as though for the first time, trying to imagine the sort of habitat conducive to the purposes of those who had trapped them there.

The first thing that came to mind was a rude cage made of interwoven branches, shaped as a sphere, inside of which sat the rodent-like animal which had been the short-lived companion of his childhood. He sought to dismiss the memory, seeing that it had little bearing on his present circumstances. Again he studied the wall with careful scrutiny, as though it could have been the painting of an old master, or else an expert forgery.

Again he was met with as much of note as he had previously surmised: chiefly that the walls bore no sign of their maker – no imperfections in the smooth texture of the metal, nor bolts or breaks or other inconsistencies in the entirely homogenous surface.

Hux sighed, not knowing what he had expected, other than to get himself a few interrupted moments to think.

It struck him as odd that he should wish for that given how conducive the place was to feelings of isolation, he wondered that he did not yearn for the reverse – to seek out Dameron's company and work with him to find a way out. A part of him felt a certain disdain intermingled with rivalry, even in the absence of a witness to honor the victor, since such a figure he could readily provide by way of his own imagined jury, familiar and omniscient. Furthermore, Dameron's callous and nonchalant personality, so unlike that of the majority of subordinate men who surrounded him, was jarring to him. Hux was used to seeing no more provoking a sight than a thinly veiled look of contempt, yet few dared to accost him openly – while those who did were the bane of him.

The general knelt down and rubbed his temples, the headache which had been bothering him since the strange incident with Dameron seemed to only get worse.

He had been fighting back the thought of what the other had seen, having decided that it was likewise irrelevant nonsense and nothing more – merely a figment of a fatigued mind in reaction to madness. He pressed his palms to the cold metal and leaned his head upon it, watching his breath turn into condensation upon its surface before quickly vanishing. Hux's jaw clenched in anger as he thought of the desperation which he would soon be reduced to if he found no means of escape, imagining his filthy decomposing body and Dameron's alongside it. He thought of his years of service to the First Order and the final blow which they had dealt him and the manner in which he was dismissed.

Perhaps forgiveness and compassion were not commonly doled out among his Order, even to the best of men, yet he could not help but feel wrathful disillusionment that an exception had not been made for him, as insignificant as he was to the ends which they sought. All the while he was aware of the tenacity with which each individual clung to justify his own existence. Since his mind had allowed him to think clearly, he doubted not that they to whom he had sworn his lifelong allegiance were the ones who had indifferently discarded him to the fate of a slow deranged death. Yet he saw no means of ever repaying them.

He cursed, his fists clenched tightly, his thoughts flitting between the varied objects of his loathing, at the same time feeling ashamed of his ignobleness.

Water – he wanted water so desperately. Something to subdue the churning pain in his stomach, every inch of his body felt loathsome.

Rising again, Armitage pushed the panel further in vent frustration – aghast at what he would then behold.

When the wall shifted, a narrow stream much like an aqueduct was visible where the general had expected the familiar gray surface of the floor. His delight was unbounded, like that of a shipwrecked man who saw an approaching ship. With greedy gulps he drank from the stream. Thoughts of poisoning occasionally flitted through like daggers upon his joy and relief in quenching his bodily desire, only abetted by the notion that this means of killing him was unnecessarily convoluted and his own person hardly of such importance in itself to warrant it.

Surely his usefulness to his faceless captor was as a specimen of a species than as Armitage Hux, who hardly had the right to retain his title as a general.

He washed his face, reveling in the refreshing sensation of the cold water against his skin. For a moment, he wondered whether to call for Dameron out of a sense of decency and obligation to his fellow prisoner, but such was his gladness that he was loath to have it disturbed, if only for a few moments more, by one with whom he would have to waste words. Armitage felt like a beggar that had discovered a jinn's oasis and was resolved to bask in its gifts before the king and his men arrived to shoo away the slave. Yet these very thoughts, contemptible to his ambivalently proud and self-doubting nature, were enough to bring his mirth to a conclusion. Having fully satiated himself with the cold water, he went seek the pilot's whereabouts.

Hux shouted his name until his voice grew hoarse but received no reply in return. Only walking at first, he began to run, continuing to call out for the other and wondered if it was some trick or game, or an act of childish defiance, if the other had found a means of escape and had left him there, or if he had come to peril. He had no way of knowing which of these alternatives was the most probable.

His heart began to palpitate with the fear that the man was gone; as absurd as it seemed, while he did not wish for his company in proximity, it soothed him to know that he had a comrade in misery somewhere within the cell.

It was therefore much to his relief when he saw Dameron approaching, waving his arm blithely. He seemed to wish to say something but it was gargled by attempts to swallow something, instead causing him to break out into a fit of coughing. Hux could not help but grin when he saw that the other was carrying a jacket full of what looked like strange speckled brown bulbs which oozed a thick red substance all over his sleeves. While far from appetizing in appearance, the man had no doubt that they were meant to be edible and that he and the pilot were saved from death by starvation, at least for the time being.

The two men spoke little as they sat by the stream and feasted like wolves upon the morsels.

"I don't know if it's just the hunger but these things are amazing," Dameron wiped the juice from his lips and drank another handful of water. "Each one seems to be perfectly ripe and sweet – not too cloying though – just right. What do you think, have you ever seen these before?" he asked Hux, examining one of the bulbs as though doing so might jog his own memory.

"Sweet?" Their flavor is like porg's flesh, rather surprising for a plant, but I would not call it sweet," replied Armitage, feeling more at ease and even glad of the other's companionship during the meal.

"Did you get all the bad ones?" Poe looked at him with some amusement as he took a fruit from the hoard nearest to the general.

"I've had plenty of prog before – definitely not prog," the pilot asserted, taking a bite out of four different fruits and one straight out of the hand of Hux, who answered him with a scowl. "Nope, I don't know what's wrong with your tastebuds. What does the First Order feed you anyways?"

Hux said nothing, looking at the half eaten fruit in his hand. He felt a certain uneasiness which he could not fully put into words, and from the look that had fallen over Dameron's brow, he could tell that the other sensed it also.


	6. Chapter 6

"It is a peculiar place isn't it," sighed the pilot, leaning back against the wall. "Sometimes I wonder if we will wake up to find that this was all an illusion – that we are both comatose in a pod somewhere," Poe spoke out loud his idle thoughts, a peculiar smile upon his lips as though he sought to say in jest what he feared in earnest. "I mean, why would anyone go through all the trouble. It is like a little universe in here"

"Such little universes are not uncommon and not without their faults," said Hux, looking up from the scattered shells of the fruit which they had peeled for their repast, taking one in his hands and slowly tearing it into smaller pieces.

"What do you mean?" asked Poe, sitting up from where he had been slouching.

"It is difficult – nearly impossible, to create an artificial reality without what we may call glitches."

"Then they are then not too different from reality," the other man remarked, his hands likewise absent-mindedly reaching for the scraps and tearing them up in a sort of restlessness as they conversed. "Do you know what to look for then, to figure out if this is real or not?"

"Not to a degree of certainty that would put your mind at ease, I imagine," Armitage answered him. "Yet whether this world interacts with our bodies or only with our minds, finding its faults will involve a similar process. We must give it time."

"What is it that we are looking for then?" Poe pressed him on, feeling impatient and wondering if the other was trying to preserve some kind of advantage over him, or at the furthest end of his suspicion, that Hux was in league with the creators of their cell and was only playing a part, feigning ignorance or inability to free him.

"It is not so simple," Hux got up and brushed off the scraps from his coat, for the first time taking note of the significance of the uniform. He looked under the left sleeve where a silver code was faintly visible, identifying the garment among a multitude of similar tunics as the same one which he wore on the day of his excommunication from the First Order.

"What is it?" the pilot took hold of his arm and tried to find what he had been looking at. Hux briskly pulled it away, surprised by the other's forwardness. "What do those symbols mean?"

"They are for sorting laundry," said Hux.

"I'm sorry, it's just that this is driving me mad - bad choice of words, I mean not literately...I hope," he chuckled, patting the other on the shoulder as if they were old pals. "I need to get back as soon as I can, I cannot sit about here forever when I can actually be useful elsewhere."

The general swatted away his hand but said nothing. In his thoughts he was both amused and embittered to think that the man saw himself as irreplaceable to his comrades. If such was true, he believed it was due to their smaller numbers, sentimentality and a greater tolerance for insubordination. For better or for worse, the ranks of the First Order were more akin to bees in a hive, so he mused, yet even there volatile elements existed.

"I'm sorry," Dameron did not know what to say, feeling embarrassed by his own anxiousness, whether the other could see it or not. He imagined that he had been spewing all manner of stupid words to mask the unnerving thought revolving inside his head. "It just seems like you are keeping something from me. But don't worry, I won't try and torture it out of you. Will you tell me one thing though, do you trust me?"

"I do," answered Armitage, although somewhat taken aback by the question which came so unexpectedly.

Poe was likewise surprised by the lack of hesitation in the other man's response. So visible were his thoughts upon his face that Hux felt the need to say more.

"Will you not assume that we are allies, while we are here alone?" said the general.

"You say that as though I am mistaken in thinking so."

"At first I was afraid of remaining here, but perhaps I need not be," spoke Hux, puzzled by the other's remark but thinking little enough of the conversation to speak his own thoughts freely.

"You would stay here even if you were able to leave?" Poe looked at him with incredulity, observing also that Hux had avoided answering the question implied in his previous remark. Subsequently, he wondered if he was perhaps over-thinking the words exchanged between them and it was only stress and lack of sleep taking its toll.

"I would consider it as not the worst among many of the habitable planets beyond these walls. It seems that our basic needs are provided for here," Hux sought to give Dameron a plain pragmatic explanation, wishing to avoid further questioning, for it seems that the other was in some ways agitated and not in the mood for philosophizing. He also toyed with the idea of provoking him further and seeing if he could not make himself master of the other's fears. "It gives us what we want, as we have observed, but it shall not let us leave. It is a considerate and protective warder."

"Are you sure about that? Perhaps we just have to ask nicely," he took another piece of the strange fruit and threw against the wall, Hux winced involuntarily.

"I suppose you can keep trying if you wish - explore its rules, and its limits," Hux looked out into the distance, perturbed by the other's unrepressed anger.

"Unless it gets tired of us and decides that we are not welcome anymore," said the pilot, he had felt glad to be able to have someone human to talk to, yet he could not believe the other's strange thoughts. Dameron did not know whether to interpret them as apathy and nihilism or as some kind of game to get on his nerves. It had seemed natural to him that the two of them would work together to find a way out, enemies or not, yet even a common cause appeared lacking in order to unite the two prisoners. On a subconscious level, Poe wished to receive some sign of what he imagined Hux was keeping from him, believing that he would recognize it ever it appeared.

"Do you suppose that even worlds could be fickle friends?" spoke Armitage.

"I do not know, to be honest. And the alternative to trying to escape, what would that look like?" the pilot regarded the other man with a sardonic smile, ignoring his remark. "That you and I live here – happily ever after?"

"I think that I can be content here, yes," the general sighed as though in exasperation with their strange talk, all the while he had avoided Dameron's eyes.

"Well - It cannot be worse than what you call home, you poor thing," he said with forced derision. "I'm sure we'll warm up to each other in time."

"Which home would that be?" Hux approached closer to one of the walls, grazing it with his fingertips. As before, a subtle vibration would pass through it, causing him to draw his hand away. "How very optimistic of you, in any case".

"Oh right, I forgot. I guess this is home then," he was about to touch the other's shoulder but stopped himself in time. "And it only seems reasonable that as the years go by (if so they must) we shall either create or own separate countries, each with a population of one or become tolerably good friends, or even lovers," said the pilot all in a mocking tone.

All the while he felt acutely aware of the unwarranted venom in his words, as if the other had in some way insulted or betrayed him, yet his nerves were stirred into too much of a passion for him to stop himself short of hurting the other man.

"I do not think so Dameron," said Hux, his gaze piercing. "That it will be so simple, that things will just fall into place"

"Tell me how it will be then."

"I will build my country here and you shall try to destroy it," Hux was surprised by the words that he uttered upon some unexpected impulse but resigned himself to them.

"I will, certainly," said Poe without hesitation, trying to subdue the growing bitterness with which he regarded the general. "What will happen then?"

"Then you shall destroy me and the years shall destroy you."

"The years?" he looked at the ground, his brow furrowed as he tried to imagine the horrid things of which they spoke. "Lord of the Flies, do you think that we have both parted with our senses? What are we saying?" he pressed his hands to his eyes, then passed his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. "Ugh what is wrong with us?"

"Forgive me Dameron," said the general with a pang of concern for the other, feeling that perhaps their odd conversation had gone too far and that they needed rest to mend a delirious sleep deprived state, if such could be found in the unnatural world which they inhabited. "I shall try and make amends, I shall help you if I can. Come with me."

Poe followed him, as though in a trance, watching the other man's shadow as they walked further alongside the wall.

"There is something that we have yet to do," Hux murmured, "I doubt that it will result in anything different than moving the walls, but here – step back."

Hux pressed his hands to the wall and watched as it began to sublimate into smoke, black as tar, while the pilot watched on in amazement, delight intermingling with fear of what looked like the conjurer's black arts. However it was not long before Hux was obliged to stop, for as the material turned into a gaseous form, the two of them were affected by a fit of coughing induced by the dispersing particles. With the cloud of sooty smoke that remained, the general made an attempt at transforming it back into a solid, at which point it glided to the ground in microscopic fragments of dust.

"Amazing," Poe looked at the gaping cavern in what was left in the wall. "Would I be able to do that also?"

"Yes, as you had done when bringing into being the so-called fruit," replied Armitage, glad that he was able to distract the pilot from whatever state had previously possessed him.

"I guess you're right, you just have to focus on it, almost obsessively, and then it might happen – right?" Poe too had noticed the peculiar qualities of the material and a part of him was curious to know what else was in the realm of the possible. He hoped that such experiments would yield fruit of a different kind in time, or at the very least, make the place more endurable.

"You may put it that way, yes," answered the other.

"At least it seems like we are more or less safe here, or is it too soon to say?"

"It is too soon to say."

"Very reassuring, especially as I was hoping to get some rest soon. Tomorrow we shall see what more can be done," the pilot resolved.

Armitage nodded, choosing a corner of the cube to lay down. He too wondered how he would be able to sleep, while at the same time felt so exhausted that he could well trust in the weakness of his body alone to let rest overtake his endless thoughts. The floor was far from comfortable and all that he had for a possible pillow or blanket was his coat. Poe was in a similar predicament, yet for his bed he chose the cavern that had been created by the sublimated particles. Each shifted and turned restlessly, often opening their eyes to look about the room or to confirm that their fellow prisoner was as he had last seen him. Both men were still much unaccustomed to spending a night in such an abode, if night and day could still be thought to exist.

"It's just too creepy here, isn't it?" Dameron said at last, looking at Armitage from his makeshift sleeping couch. "Don't you imagine some red-eyed thing morphing out of the wall? Imagine if the room became dark too, then it –"

As he said so, the light source began to flicker and was then completely extinguished. Hux's jaw clenched, sitting up from where he lay on the floor, his eyes tried to penetrate through the darkness as he awaited the impending horror which the other had so described, feeling something akin to a child's terror of the darkness. He knew not whether to draw closer to the walls or away from them.

"I'm sure you're barely breathing," a hearty laughter came from somewhere nearby before he found himself struggling with what he imagined were the hands of Dameron. "Please," the voice changed to one that was soft, a whisper, desperate and beseeching.

"Please do not worry," Poe clasped the general's slender body, pulling him close so that each could feel the other's racing heartbeat – each with his own ill-masked fears. A shiver ran through Hux as he felt arms engulf him, a warm breath close to his ear, carnal and provoking. He knew not how to respond, his limbs frozen, his eyes shut.

"It is only me," Dameron smiled, allowing the other to pull away as the light slowly returned.


	7. Chapter 7

Poe's face burned with the half-formed emotions which he sought in vain to subdue. The manner in which the other man regarded him appeared fraught with the scrutinizing judgement of one immune to human passions, or so it seemed to Dameron, who had cast him thus in the realm which he reserved to thoughts he dared not lay bear even before himself.

It was to this very distance between them that Poe attributed the greater part of the force that had been stirred within him. The cold and unnatural world in which he saw Hux held a fascination for him, so unthinkable it was for him to imagine a man like himself trapped between the labyrinthine walls of the First Order. To be able to sustain a noble spirit upon such meager fare seemed impossible to one who still retained some semblance to humanity. It was only by a form of a powerful delusion that They existed, so mused the pilot. He could only piece together fragmented visions of those who had so devoted their lives, as he remembered their aircrafts combusting into smithereens with a bittersweet pleasure, intermingled with the occasional bout of apprehension at taking an eye for an eye. There were times when he too was obliged to dehumanize, turning multitudes into a homogenous Enemy. Only after the ashes had fallen and the adrenaline in his veins subsided could he truly think of them as men or women, each with their own desperate passions and frailties. Only then was he able to remove the mask that was upon the, the Us and the Them.

He imagined, too, a withered soul - a thing pitiful and lowly. He thought of an expressionless automaton, stern and obedient, feeling nothing as it carried out it allotted work. The methodical and speechless General Hux bowing over a blue screen, scrutinizing it with crow-like eyes, striding back and forth in gray hallways with his hands behind his back and an air of feigned authority. A form of sycophant who, having reached the ceiling of his ascent to power, was still hopeful that patience would have its rewards – unawares that his masters have long grown weary of him.

Then he saw a ruthless man, more cunning and cruel than the prior - one who merely went through the motions of submission, meanwhile toiling at schemes and deceptions which would allow him to climb the ladder over his peers, a pit of serpents and devils differing from one another only in capacity and opportunity. A Cassius searching for his Brutus.

Then he envisioned an ordinary man, at times disgruntled, at times rising to anger, hope, or remorse- knowing not where else to go, certain that his life is held in a firm grasp.

Then, the enthusiastic disciple and fanatic, believing and obeying all that had been taught to him with the ardor of an esoteric revelation, desiring no more than to be useful to the cause which had given him life and purpose. Yet such a mask fitted poorly on the phantasm before him: the thin figure which seemed to have trembled in his grasp, whether in fear or in pleasure, or in barely suppressed disgust – he could not tell which, yet above else it shamed him to know that he would not have so easily released him if the other had somewhere to escape to.

Of all of these figures that could have been Hux, his mind had preferred two; he who is vulnerable, pitiful and pure and he of moderate courage and much patience, who would one day bite the hand that long had fed him. Initially, it was only the first that Dameron thought that he could love, yet even the second could be cast in a different light – as the shadow of one afraid, who sought to run away through a series of conquests aimed to appease what he lacked the power to overcome, and thus again becoming one who is vulnerable, a shivering spirit in his arms.

Of his world Poe resolved to ask him all, to imagine his waking days in all of their monotony and search for the signs of a secret longing which he did not doubt existed in the still human heart. He wished to love and be loved by one who had never felt amorous pangs for another man or woman, within the confines of a methodical sterilized world, cruel and abstracted. So unlike their present abode, which seemed to magnify their every feeling. Nor had Hux yet experienced love's betrayals and its falsehoods – from this too the object of Dameron's fascination had been safeguarded, and was therefore free of the knowledge of such arts other than as they were applied in the realm of politics. Certainly, Armitage's heart was one subdued and hidden behind cold eyes and stern lips, full of masquerading desires that Poe sought to draw out and tend to, savoring every transformation.

All of this was read to Dameron in a soft hurried whisper, as though spoken to a confessor through a lattice wall. He did not doubt the truth of these strange and poignant words, trusting in the sincerity which the prison induced between Hux and himself.

Hux had hesitated when Dameron had had him in his grasp and to this fleeting memory Poe would hold onto. He would place it among the morsels of evidence which would feed his continued belief that he would possess Armitage Hux.

Those inscrutable eyes, he wondered if they knew. Poe gazed at the other man for a long time, hoping that his own careless smile, maintained by much inner force, did not likewise betray his own beating heart. He cursed himself for not knowing which words to speak, and the longer he regarded Hux, the more he felt him to be untouchable. The pilot, amidst his churning emotions, was able to extinguish the light once more, if only to place a shadow over himself and prevent the eyes of the general from seeing him clearly.

It was then that the floor began to sink beneath them as though melting under the heat of an ember, the general's body descending into what could almost be a grave. Through the darkness, Poe watched in horror, wondering at the meaning of the force which acted upon the construct of their prison. He knew that there was no time to conjecture, getting up and struggling to lift him out of the cavern while he was still barely within reach.

Dameron lowered himself down onto his stomach before the edge of the growing chasm and grabbed onto Hux, straining to haul him up as the chasm continued to deepen. It was unnerving for the pilot to see the abyss below, as though it ended in nothing short of death and damnation, the abode of some subterranean beast. It troubled him in equal measure that the other man did not stir, as if here were still caught in a dream even after the rough handling which he had received as Poe had tried to rescue him from the ever-changing dimensions of their cage.

The man listened to the other's heart which still seemed to beat rapidly, yet to all other appearances the general may have been a senseless body. Dameron tried to call his name, shouting into his ear to wake him but there was no sign that Hux had heard, so heavy was his apparent sleep. He tried shaking him next, and even this proved ineffectual. His apprehensions rising, the pilot checked his breathing and found that there was no sign of it. At this, he rose suddenly and began to pace, not knowing what to do. Only the sound of the other's heavy coughing and the sight of his startled eyes brought him any sense of relief.

"What happened to you?" Poe knelt down beside him and helped him to rest his head upon a makeshift pillow made of his well-worn jacket.

"I wished to escape from what you would have done to me. I imagined the earth engulfing me, while leaving me insentient," Hux answered, his voice caught between cruelty and remorse. "But perhaps I was mistaken as to your character and these twisted thoughts are a ruse to make enemies of us once more."

"Mistaken?" he tried to smile blithely in affected ignorance while his heart beat faster in dread of shame and rejection.

"Yes - mistaken about your intentions towards me," said the other, turning his face away and then looking up again at Poe, wondering how much he ought to speak of it."I can feel how you feel, Dameron."

"What is it that I feel then?" Poe's smile subsided as his face burned at the ignominy.

"A carnal desire fed by the novelty of being with someone so different from what you have always believed as worthy of love," Hux endeavoured to show no emotion in his voice as he spoke, wishing to say what he said merely as one would state a matter of fact. "A strange fleeting attraction. You must know that I would die before you are able to defile me."

"Why is it strange to you Armitage that someone might care for you? You are however mistaken if you think that I would hurt you or force myself upon you; we only have each other here – perhaps there is a reason why we were brought together in this place. Surely it was not to destroy one another," he sought to comfort Hux and appease his doubts. Furthermore, with a childish joy, he took delight in merely speaking the other's name, as though it implied a familiarity between them - even if such a connection had yet to form.

Yet the words which Hux had spoken had stung deeply, to be thought of as a brute that would carry out the odious act which was implied. Poe himself did not fully know the full strength of his romantic emotions or how long they had existed yet his noble heart and morality strongly bound him. Poe recalled that throughout the years during which he had known of the general's existence there had long been a growing spark of interest as well as vague fantasies of good and evil entangled, yet never did he think that he would have an opportunity to speak to the other in private or be close to him other than in battle. It pleased Dameron to be able to study the features of Armitage's face, with its subtle expressions of emotion, his soft hair and gentle lips.

There was a delicacy and softness about Hux's body that contrasted with his sombre uniform, in this too he found satisfaction, thinking of the man's slender white hands in black leather gloves, removing them one by one with a certain self-assured smile. Yet these were only trifling thoughts without the substance of the other's character, his true self - whether this too he was able to love, whether he could see it clearly for himself and reach beyond glistening imagination. He loathed the thought that he had reduced love to a base fetish or novelty – that the other's accusing words had hit their mark. Poe's desire was to care for Armitage in his entirety, to know his faults and his virtues, discovering all aspects of the man.

"There is little that is pleasing or good in the image that you have of me, is pity the most that you could adorn me with?" Hux struggled between his wish to draw away from the other and a fear that by doing so he would give himself much cause to regret in the silent hours that awaited him – even beyond the confides of their surreal abode.

"I feel sorry for you, I wish that you would not fight against your own hopes; I feel what you feel too. I believe that you are aware of it yet you only turn to see the lowest aspect of what it means to have someone feel affection for you," Poe held the other gently by the shoulders and then lowered his forehead to lean against Armitage's.

"Please do not be afraid of me," Dameron continued. "I will love you and care for you in a way that is more about giving than taking. I shall try to bring you happiness if I can. I will wait for your desires to be as mine are, if ever they might be so – I hope that you can feel safe in my arms. You shall have my friendship and my protection, if this is all that you may accept from me. Let it be as you wish it, let it take what shape it will with the passage of time. I know that there may be strong differences between us yet I believe that any two human beings could love one another if they are unwavering in their resolve and faithfulness. So long as they wish to give one another happiness and take away each other's pain along the path of life, forbearing with patience each other's faults and cherishing what is good and noble in one another. This is my philosophy of love which I had learned to believe in after much heartbreak. Years have passed since I have thought of giving my heart again to one who is a stranger, but perhaps this place is the environment which would allow me to realize my hopes and ideals, that is to say, you and I have only each other here. Perhaps here we could learn to be true to ourselves and one another," he was afraid that the words sounded naive and cloying in the other's ears even as he spoke them. Dameron felt frustrated that he could not adequately convey how he felt. All that he could do with certainty was wrap his arms around Armitage and hold him close.

Gently he ran his hand along the other's back in a soothing motion, feeling comfort in the awareness of Armitage's breath against his skin as he exhaled, his eyes half closed in submission. In adoration, Poe moved a stray lock of hair from the man's forehead, his fingers brushing along the soft pale skin of his neck while their limbs intertwined, their bodies reclining upon on the cold floor. He could feel Hux's breath become as irregular as his own as he exhaled deeply, as though finding it hard to breathe. Hesitatingly, Poe kissed his cold hand and held it in his own.

"May I?" Dameron spoke in barely a whisper. "Is this wrong?"

For a long time Hux said nothing, stopping himself each time he was about to speak, afraid lest he should regret his words. He was embarrassed of his arousal while at the same time felt sufficiently moved by Dameron's romanticized views to endeavour to trust, allowing himself to share with Poe a state of emotional vulnerability. Previously, the calculating part of him had imagined the odds of resisting Dameron and had reconciled himself with the conclusion that he would not easily be able to overpower him without a weapon. Yet it were his emotions more than his reason that led him when he submitted to the other's timid caresses, so cautious of offending or repulsing the unsuitable object of his affections.

The most painful of Hux's thoughts was of another kind however. There was doubt in Armitage that it was by virtue of their situation that Poe had resolved to love him honorably or otherwise and that if circumstances were different, the man would not have hesitated to kill him as their two sides vented their wrath upon each other's ships and soldiers. Yet even with this cynic's apprehension, he could not prevent himself from accepting the attentions paid to him, so rare were such shows of kindness and tenderness, Armitage did not hope to find a like opportunity if he were again re-established as General Hux of the First Order.

"What are you fearful of? I can feel that you are afraid," Poe closed his eyes, still holding the other's hand.

"That my ignorance would make a fool of me. I am afraid of the pain that comes from fleeting affections," Hux regretted the accusation which he made for an answer yet it was the manner of response which came naturally to him. Nevertheless, it was not without relief that he got the venomous words off of his chest. "When novelty expires, when we are no longer in this strange world of ours."

"It hurts me to hear you say so, my hope is still that with time I might earn your trust and that perhaps you too would one day care for me," Poe looked at general Hux searchingly for some sign of satisfaction with the response.

"I do not know what you expect from me truly. If it is bodily pleasure then there is –"

"Even if we were the last two beings in existence, I am not so depraved as to force myself upon you, I have told you as much already have I not? I know what you are referring to and you must understand that people do not act on or even want everything they might daydream about," Poe could not help but feel upset that the other repeated the implications of the meaningless vision which he had had, glimpsed and uncovered to Hux from the recesses of intimate fantasy by some force enabled by their prison. Yet part of him was afraid of himself even as he reassured the one he sought to love purely, wondering if in anger or in frustration he would lose his humanity. It could not be so, he felt that he would rather not be alive if he had so little control over himself. "Please do not mention it again," Poe said at last, his hurt emotions visible upon his face.

"Could you not find a better candidate than I amongst your own people for what you call love?" Hux went on, compelled to satisfy his doubts fully.

"There have others with whom I tried to find love but in the end we had parted ways" said Poe, wondering how he could explain and justify to Armitage something that he could barely reconcile in his own heart.

"Did you abandon this person?"

"She had abandoned me."

"Where there those whom you abandoned."

"Yes," Poe answered with reluctance.

"You do not wish to speak of them I suppose?"

"I would like to tell you everything about me, but in this moment I want to know that I can hope that you might in time care for another in an affectionate way, that you are open to genuine friendship and would not scorn sincere love."

"Your words align to my ideals of love but your actions make me hesitant," Hux answered him forthrightly.

"I understand," Poe met the other's steady gaze with a troubled heart. "Among our kind there are many weaknesses to which I am not immune. I can only vow that what I have said is what I aspire to and hope that the strength within me is enough. There will surely be times when I shall let you down, when I am not the person who I seek to be, yet I hope that when you account for all that I do and all that I am, you will find that I have been true to you and worthy of your love. That on a grand scale, we may trust in one another. Again, perhaps it is only with time that this trust will come."

"I am human, as much as you are, and amongst our people there are few such romances akin to what you have described– those that I have heard of do not last long," Hux replied, trying to reconcile Poe's promise to that which was known to him.

"What happens to them?" asked Poe.

"They are demoted and often sent to warring planets as front-line soldiers, or else used for heavy labor in inhospitable climates. Their lack of commitment to the First Order rarely goes unnoticed - and never goes unpunished. The least severe punishment that I have heard of was to send erring women to nurse children taken into the Order."

"Are you always watched then?"

"That is the impression that we are meant to feel."

"Have any romances of this kind ever led to a child being born?"

"That is impossible," Hux said with some embarrassment. "Our bodies are altered to prevent it."

"What do you mean?"

"Our reproductive organs are removed, although sometimes those cells are used to create embryos in a laboratory setting, implanted in prisoners who would carry them to term. I suppose that you might find this sordid," said Armitage, somewhat taken aback by the transition which their conversation had taken, yet he could understand Poe's curiosity.

"Do you remember when it happened to you?"

"When one comes of age, that is usually the time for the operation," Hux answered him.

"I-I am sorry that you lived in such a place," Poe felt that his words could mean but little, still wishing to convey his compassion. He held Armitage closer as a gesture of comfort and protection, the other smiled at him slightly, as though to say that such concern was unnecessary but appreciated.

"It means little to me, perhaps it was for the best even," Hux admitted to him. "Such desires would have made my life more difficult I believe - more prone to manipulation, blackmail, frustration or distraction."

"Were you... are you content?"

"I cannot say that I am, yet it is not due to that particular loss, It was more the sense of isolation, as you have felt," said Armitage, finding it strange how much he was willing to reveal to Dameron. At the same time it felt as though a weight was to be lifted from his chest. Pressing Poe's hand, he sought to tell the other that he was in some ways glad of the feelings that were awakening within him.

"We shall have each other now, you do not have to feel alone," spoke Dameron, smiling kindly at him, grateful that he too was not isolated in the prison without his companion.

"I would rather always be alone than be deceived into loving and trusting one who is false. I suppose you cannot promise me that you will not change your mind about this," Armitage bowed his head, feeling sorry for his inability to shake his cynicism. "You must understand that I have always been averse to uncertainty and risk."

"I will do my best to understand. Only I wonder, why is there so much suspicion in your heart?"

"What I had heard and read regarding love is of this nature -," Hux endeavoured to explain. "That it is a fleeting and fickle emotion, and that one partner always loves more than the other, and he who loves more is the weaker of the two, the one more likely to take the greater share of the pain and sense of loss –"

"It is not always so, but I shall not deceive you that there are times when heartbreak takes the place of love. Yet if you and I are of a like mind, as two beings who would treasure one another through all turmoil and difficulty, then perhaps we might trust in each other's loyalty. I could forgive you all if only I knew that you loved me. I understand that you are afraid however, to willingly make yourself vulnerable in this way."

:"Yes, I believe it is best to be cautious in such matters, yet even now I feel that I have already given you more than I would wish to give."

"You are safe with me and need not be afraid," Poe kissed his forehead and gazed into the other's eyes, beseeching him to look into his heart to know that his words were spoken with sincerity.

"Your reassurances are of little comfort, yet when you hold me as though I were but a child I feel the absence of something in the previous decades of my life, I dared not to hope for this fragment."

"I believe I understand. You may know that it shall always be like this between us, or that is my hope, that I would hold you like this in the decades to follow and that it would make you as glad - I will comfort you as pleases you most Armitage, you need only tell me what your wishes are," Poe whispered into his ear, leaning over him to kiss his cheek lightly.

"You are so eager to please," Hux smiled at the other man. "If only I could hold you like this in my arms and feel your warmth then that is all that I need to have joy of you. I wish to believe in the noble feelings which you profess. I hope that you shall not betray me."

"I am glad that it is so, I hope that you are likewise sincere in what you tell me," Poe answered, enjoying the silent peacefulness which passed between them as they rested in each other's arms. It felt blissful and some time passed before their hearts beat less quickly from the thoughts and emotions which stirred within.


	8. Chapter 8

Armitage struggled to fall asleep as the thoughts which were once only shadows seemed to approach too close for reality for him to be able to ignore them. While he and Dameron rested in silence in the dark empty hall, he opened his eyes slightly. Not without embarrassment, he allowed his lashes to obscure the furtive examination which he took of the other man's form, his eyes most drawn to the parted lips and the masculine jaw, the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed, the contours of his legs. However innocent such an inspection might be, it was not something that he could have allowed himself to do so thoroughly under the other's knowing gaze, instinctively ashamed of the feelings which it roused and what they might mean to the principles which had been instilled in him throughout his life. Yet an almost naive curiosity intermingled with pleasure to make him consider Dameron's body in a new light - that of possession.

Never before had he had an influence of the kind; to have power over a man neither by authority, fear, nor, as in the best of cases, out of the respect he once believed was his due as an accomplished general. Yet as the tides of fortune had shifted, General Hux and his superiors had found his capabilities to be lacking, and so the fall of his esteem was great when the fountains from which it drank had run dry.

Cut off from the First Order and discarded to be the plaything and malleable material for he knew not what experiment, Armitage had little to impede him on a path alternating between despair and nihilism. Therefore, unknowingly, Dameron had done much to revive the other's precariously balanced foibles of insecure self-worth and haughty pride dependent upon gleaning admiration and praise, or at the very least, tacit approval by way of his relentless effort. Abandoned by his acknowledged master, and unwilling to submit to one unworthy of his service, Hux was in dire need of an object of devotion to take hold of him – or else take on the role of master himself. Indeed, Armitage took an almost vicious delight in the vague idea that he had it within his power to influence, control and torture the other by the leash of his sentimentality and ill-advised attachment. Yet this well accorded with his knowledge of human affections, gleaned in part from a motley lot of so-called literature, heresy and First Order doctrine, as well as the inklings of family history regarding his father's relations with his mother - a source of great shame for Hux throughout his life.

Above this, Armitage was aware of instances when First Order officers would have relations with prisoners and other so-called inferiors, but such arrangements held much risk and little appeal, although perhaps less perilous to his ambitions than mingling with one of the Order, nevertheless, the thought of satisfying merely carnal desires had long been associated with incurring dishonor, losing power, and taking on unnecessary complications, which left little room within the realms of Armitage's fantasy for guiltless romantic hopes.

While acknowledging the existence of these morally tangled thoughts, he knew that his remorse would be greater than any gloating delight that could be had from oppressing Dameron through the love and devotion which he offered, whether in petty malice or as a means to an end. Both for the sake of the pilot and for his own peace of mind, Armitage was well aware of how precious a gift he had been given, if the other had spoke truly and had the strength of character to sustain the bond which he hoped to form with one who had long been little more than a figure of the enemy. Of these softer feelings, Hux felt a fear not only of being abandoned or of becoming unworthy of the other's affections, but also a protectiveness towards Poe lest he should come to harm.

He passed the night in idle fantasies centered around the theme of being able to prove himself to Dameron by saving him from imprisonment, torture or death – in all cases risking either his life or his position within the First Order so that he might be able to affect his friend's escape. Such opportunities allowed Hux to paint himself in a heroic light and consider a debt repaid to whatever was owed to the granting of such love as Poe promised him. These innocuous visions let Armitage experience the imagined gratitude and affection which would come of self-sacrifice, along with a certain sense of superiority over the pilot who would be fully dependent upon his valor and mercy. Conversely, Armitage also turned his imaginings to the idea of finding himself in a similar position: his own life in danger, suffering a mortal wound or being trapped aboard a spacecraft minutes away from destruction. He saw the pilot endeavouring to save him, disregarding both the pleading and derision of his friends and the orders of his superiors. All of these thoughts would end in the same manner, of the two of them holding each other closely, whether with gentle tenderness or in passionate longing. At last the shadow which he had long embraced had a body, a voice, a consciousness outside of his own.

Even while he had resided in the chamber allotted to him by the First Order, he would at times comfort himself at night with fantasies of being looked after as one who is severely wounded, when a state of weakness and submission was permitted without causing him to lose face or fall in esteem. The figure who would care for him thus, visiting his bedside and with concern examining his wounds would take the idealized features of one of the nameless men or women whom he would pass by, perhaps even command, yet never dare to speak more than what was necessary within the safety of his role as General.

Into this empty mould he would cast emotions in contrast to those which he practiced, to coldness he would match warmth and affection, to indifference: compassion and sensitivity, to severity: mercy and empathy. All of the emotions and traits of character which were discouraged and scoffed at were those which Armitage most desired to find in his so-called nurse. Yet even when he had come as close as he ever could to this fantasy, he had found that his attentive companion was only a medical room droid, a situation which he ought to have expected yet by way of hopeful daydreaming, had allowed himself to neglect the facts. In hindsight, he could not help but find these reflections pitiful and amusing – how desperate he had been for some semblance of humanity. To be cared for, to be missed, to be loved, perhaps even to be desired.

How strange it was, that circumstances which were intended as a sign of punishment and exile where what brought him closer to, or rather, beyond the ambition of being a man who is difficult to replace. No military genius or brilliant stratagem could have raised him further than what he hoped and believed Poe would give him. Hux was acutely aware that the newfound object upon which he would focus his forever growing aspirations was surrounded by feelings which he had little chance to explore in the life that lay behind him. To die for an individual, irrespective of his allegiances, rank or any other external factor, was something which he had previously only thought of doing as a means to an end – as one who carried out an unspoken order, which if failing to obey, would just as certainly find his demise by the hands of his own people. Poe was only a man, a man of some importance to those to whom he swore allegiance, but hardly irreplaceable – Armitage had long been taught that no man could be so unless the strength of his cause was at its weakest, reduced to dependence upon the individual. No individual life had value beyond its usefulness, each was a part of a greater whole, each part would be succeeded by -

Hux shifted onto his other side away from his companion, as though Dameron might somehow be able to read his thoughts if he were to look into his eyes. Previously, Hux had hardly been conscious that they were wide open and fixed upon Poe, although in a realm far away from what was once their prison, or else - their paradise. The man was ashamed of his thoughts, thoughts of the old ways and beliefs, values no longer relevant to the struggles that lay ahead – values destructive of the happiness which was now within his grasp. He was deeply troubled by his inexperience and likewise of his distrustful tendencies, which might allow him to outmaneuver Dameron but likewise foil his own hopes of finding contentment with another human being.

While his duties had often required him to be impervious to distress, to navigate through fear and calamity with a cold and collected mind, the general had found himself to be better adept at coping with certain types of dangers than others. He remembered how shaken he had been by the public humiliation that Dameron had inflicted upon him through his stalling tactic. The pilot had made a fool of him and although much time had passed since then, to recall it brought on a wave of resentment and self-reproach.

But what trifles - Armitage confessed to himself that he had little choice in his ravenous heart but to partake sincerely in their attempt at love.

...

When morning had come, Hux was much exhausted by the train of hopes, fears, hypothetical scenarios, romantic fantasies and recollections which were the cause of his inability to fall asleep. His interaction with Dameron had deeply affected him and left him with more than he could analyze and plan for in a single night. Still, the pilot did not question what he presumed to be the blissful sleep of one who knows himself to be loved, as he knelt beside the near-motionless figure and lightly kissed his temple before rising to his feet to once more look about the strange world which they would call theirs.

Once Hux was awake they would being building a proper home, no more sleeping on the floor, so Poe resolve. One with rooms, furniture, perhaps even a garden. An orchard with all kinds of fruit, the most delicious that they had ever tasted. They would have a lake too and a boat of course. A forest with trails to go for walks, could one make a sun? He missed seeing the sunset. And stars – looking up at the stars every night. It would feel just like home, but better. They would be safe and free of worries. They could do anything they wanted and savor every minute of it. It might all take them years to build but that was perfect, each day would have its purpose, something new to discover and create together. Each day they would climb a step higher, from bringing into being their humble abode to eventually raising a grand city, a civilization, a planet even. Or else let nature run free, they would have mountains instead of skyscrapers to fly planes over. It seemed so ridiculously grand - he could not help but laugh at the incalculable meaning and scale of what might be done. He did not know whether they were prisoners or gods, yet was ever a man so fortunate as to be able to build his reality from scratch to his own blueprint? To be able to change matter into any form, even to give life to plants – was that only the beginning? His mind whirled with excitement alongside the faint whisper of foreboding attached to the unknown, lest he should make ill use of it all by some deficiency of foresight.

He would have Hux to make sure that he did not overstep his bounds, Poe thought to himself - he would be the voice of reason.

Armitage opened his eyes, startled by the sound of the other's voice.

"We have a big day ahead of us Hugs," Dameron smiled at him playfully.


End file.
